Outbreak
by Acolyte of the Bacon God
Summary: The Hamato family has seen a lot. From aliens in robot bodies, to mutants who either want to be their best friend or kill them, to rival ninjas who simply want them dead. The likes of zombies, though, they only hoped to see in comic books. Sometimes hope can only do so much, and when you're stuck with both your family and some of your worst enemies, hope might be all you've got.
1. Introduction to Imminent Chaos

Date: 12 August

My name is Donatello Hamato. Normally I wouldn't keep a journal, but keeping my thoughts organized will be very important in the upcoming months.

I'm not sure how it happened. That's what I'm trying to figure out and, if there is a way to (and if there is, I will find it), fix it. Whether this is something of the Kraangs' design, some virus experimentation gone horribly wrong, or nature screwing us over for screwing with it, none of us know. Having access to topside news has been a complete godsend, and if my brothers and I hadn't heard about it so early, we wouldn't have been prepared for what we saw the very next time we went topside.

Zombies. And here I was, thinking I'd never see anything more downright horrifying than what I'd already seen.

Even from a distance they didn't appear to have the same mindset. It seems these aren't a hivemind, like you see in most zombie movies, but they certainly aren't human anymore. Walking, groaning, rotting corpses... It's horrifying. Even Raphael was put off; though I don't think he ever expected to see his comic books come to life in such a gruesome way. The virus is clearly transmitted by bites, or even contact with bodily fluid. I was lucky enough (or stupid enough) to get close to one, and, lo and behold, her neck was bruised and bloody, with what I _hope_ were traces of saliva from where she was bit. It was like the whole ordeal with the parasitic wasp all over again, and though we don't know any of the victims personally (so far), it's still as horrific.

With these, the Kraang, the Foot Clan, and all the mutants that want to kill us to deal with, this is going to be one hell of a ride. All the more reason to keep April as safe as I possibly can. We'll be putting in new safety measures for the Lair effective almost immediately. There's no way the zombies will be getting in here, regardless of whether they take to the sewers, and if they do, it will be over our dead bodies.

Though, I think they would be willing to make that happen. That is, if they even have will anymore.

I doubt they do.

Donatello, out.


	2. Laying Out Plans

Date: 15 August

So far, so good. We had a walker (what I'll be referring to the zombies that simply walk from here on out, unless they all walk. I hope they all walk; running zombies are never a good thing) try to get in, but Raphael introduced him right back to the door, at least ten times over, straight to the face before driving his sai through its skull. I've rarely seen anything as disgusting as what came out with it, but as the brain was dead, so was the walker.

Who said comic books weren't educational, at least in some way?

Mikey's been having nightmares. All of New York is already living one, you'd think one would get some sort of reprieve in sleep. You'd think, and you would be wrong. I went to bed just the other night, only to find him curled up not in his bed, but mine. I can't find it in me to blame him: this is all too real, but yet surreal at the same time, and I have to admit, I'm scared too. But brothers have to stick together, especially in times like these, and so I let him sleep there. Leo has been trying to convince me he hasn't had a single bad dream, but from the shadows under his eyes, I can tell he hasn't been staying up all night watching Space Heroes or training. I doubt either of the two could help any of us get our minds off what's going on topside right now... He's still sleeping in his own bed, though, as is Raph. Thank goodness for that. Raphael takes up more space in a bed than the vacuoles of a body cell placed and left in a hypotonic solution. Heh.

I admit I haven't been sleeping much either, though not by any fault of the seemingly contagious nightmares. I managed to get a sample of the walker's blood, and currently I'm trying to make a cure for the disease using the blood, the same way Mikey and I created a cure for the wasp's venom. It hasn't been easy, but with April's help, we're well on our way to fixing this citywide nightmare.

April... She's been affected just as badly as the rest of us. With no idea where her dad is, we have no way of knowing if he's succumbed to the virus or not, and I think she's developing a bad case of cabin fever. She's restless at night, and often I'll see her pacing, or having tea with Sensei. He's worried as all of us are, worried that the Lair will be even further compromised, that we'll have to evacuate.

So we've given ourselves a head start, just in case. Should the Lair be invaded, we'll have to travel light, just us and our weapons, and the one thing we can't live without: Raphael and Spike (none of us expected anything different), Leonardo decided to bring his action figure of Captain Ryan (the one we've all seen him snuggling with in bed at one point or another; it's common knowledge around the Lair by this point), Michelangelo's got his favorite comic (naturally, he goes through them like I go through bō staffs, though the comics aren't getting broken, blown up, or snapped), I'm bringing what information and progress I've made on the antidote. Master Splinter decided to take the photo of himself, his wife, and child with him, and April has a little stuffed elephant, patched and frayed from age and wear, that she tells me her father gave her when she was little. It was one of the things she brought back from topside when she started living here, because it reminds her of him. But, you never know, we could find her dad in the midst of all this, hopefully alive and well and not a zombie.

I was almost scared to watch the news again today, but the news didn't come. The live TV stations are all out.

This is getting worse. I need to finish that antidote before the virus evolves past eradication and spreads to other areas. It's a real-life horror movie! Not like it wasn't already, but before, it was on a smaller scale.

Wish me luck,

Donatello


	3. Chapter Three

Date: 27 August

I haven't updated my journal in a while, and now is a better time than ever, especially now that I found a way to transfer the contents of my flash drive to the T-Phone. It's a bit more difficult to type, but I need to spill my thoughts or I'm going to explode.

They don't all walk. We learned this when a crowd of them broke through and into the Lair. We won't be going back home. It's been about a week and we're not dead, which isn't really something to brag about considering April's the only sapient human around, that we've seen. No sign of the Foot Clan. No sign of any danger save for these zombies. Any survivors might have fled, if there were any.

Our first night out of the Lair for good, Mikey all but broke. We all knew he was devastated; we all were. Though he understands there is no going back, and he grasps the concept, he's taking it worse than anyone.

I still find it hard to come to terms with the fact that we can't go home now. We've been hearing thuds, and what sounds like people talking in the alleys, but it's probably our imaginations. Everyone's either a zombie or fled the city. I bet even that pigeon, Pete, had enough sense and enough of an attention span to make it out before he caught anything.

More recently, though, Leo came across a paper from the other day, and as of now, I have reason to believe we're all doomed. To my knowledge, viruses can't possibly evolve as quickly as this one has.

The zombie virus is spreading through not just the bite of infected humans, but water as well. As if things weren't terrifying enough! This isn't good. This really is not good, especially considering we need to drink water to survive. And we've been drinking water. It hasn't had much of an effect on Sensei, my brothers, and I, which is admittedly odd, but April's been really sick lately. She's had moments where she couldn't stop vomiting, and though she's slowed us down a bit in her sick state, we're not leaving her behind.

I'm really worried. We're all really worried. She just had another episode as I write this.

I checked up on her, held her hair back for a while. None of us are doctors, but even Mikey knew that finding blood and organ tissue in vomit is not a good sign. Her eyes are hollow, lifeless; she can't stand but she's stubborn, she wants to ride this out. She keeps telling us and herself that she'll make it, but she's becoming one of them and she knows it.

My darling April is dying, and we all know it.

Goodnight,

Donatello


	4. Analysis

Date: 28 August

Things haven't gotten any better with April. In fact, they're getting worse. She can't talk, can't breathe... I took the hint from the water catastrophe that maybe, just maybe, the virus doesn't affect mutants (or not as badly), and had to resuscitate her several times. It's killing me to see her like this, and know that without the proper equipment (I couldn't carry my entire lab with me, could I?) I won't be able to get working on the cure again. She just has to hold out for a little while longer. Maybe, if we can get into a Kraang lab before April dies (should I even use that term? She's infected, she'll just re-animate... but then there's no hope, we'd have to kill her, and I don't want to think about that right now), I can finish it and, at the very least, save her. It may have evolved to be infectious through contact and water, but it can still be eradicated in the early stages if it's like any disease.

It's awful. It's awful to look at her, to look at the zombies we've had to kill so far. They're horrific; disfigured beyond measure. And this is coming from a turtle who's seen a teenage boy mutate into a blob of acid and organs. Timothy kicked it some time ago. The same acidic body that ate through our weapons the day he mutated... well, it wasn't a pretty sight. I wish I'd been able to reverse what happened to him.

The zombies, though; they're only barely human. Naturally, of course, considering they're undead, but I'm talking aesthetics. Not only are the bites that some were infected through inflamed, red and pulsating, but I'm seeing instances where their skin is either a sickly purple-green and peeling, the muscle and adipose tissue rotting underneath, the occasional moment where I wonder if it's not the zombie plague we're facing, but the bubonic plague. Their lymph glands are swollen, black and blue like bruises, leaking yellow pus and it's _disgusting_. I've seen some zombies whose eyes are hanging by threads, fingers missing, mucus and blood and vomit dripping from their agape mouths...

Aside from that, things have been quiet. Still no sign of the Foot Clan, but at this point the lot of them are probably all living corpses. Aside from Dogpound and Fishface, if my hypothesis about mutants being immune to the virus is correct. I wonder what they're up to.

Which leaves the question: are all the mutants we've met still here? I know some of them wouldn't be able to get away with leaving, it'd draw too much attention to them, but then again it seems that some just don't care.

I prefer not to worry about them, not right now. Not when April needs us.

She's been asleep for a few minutes now, and doesn't look any more at peace than she did while awake. Her skin and nails are starting to yellow, when she's awake she doesn't know where she is or who we are until we remind her, she will mumble about her extremities being numb. Convulsions, hallucinations, you name it... She has a fever, according to Sensei (turtles are cold-blooded, and thus wouldn't be the best sort of people to take someone's temperature. Her temperature on a normal day is warm to us), and a high one at that, judging by her other symptoms. We estimate about 104. Had this not been a zombie virus, we would have taken her to the nearest emergency room; 104 is critical level when it comes to humans.

In short, it's going to be a slow death/reanimation period. As a scientist, this is an opportunity to see how the virus works, but this is still April we're talking about. I can't help but analyze, though, the effects of the virus once it's inside the body, especially now that I'm seeing it firsthand. Maybe, knowing what to look for, I'll be able to develop a cure for the virus's later stages, if April doesn't...

No.

She'll make it.

It seems to attack different body systems first after a day or two, depending on the mode of infection. In this case, it takes out the digestive system, breaking down organs as evidenced by the blood and tissue we found, and expelled through emesis. Evident after several episodes is the Mallory-Weiss tear, proven by fresher blood mixed in. It's the erosion of the esophagus, possibly a result of internal necrosis in this case. It gets into the bloodstream through open wounds, if I'm correct, and spreads throughout the body this way. It reaches the brain, eating away at the tissue and destroying it, causing confusion, disorientation, dementia, and loss of muscle coordination depending on which part of the brain it destroys first. Before you know it, the nervous system is highly compromised, and BOOM goes the neighborhood. To my knowledge, the liver goes next. Yellowing of the skin and nails indicates jaundice, caused by liver failure.

I'll keep this updated as her symptoms progress. She hasn't developed the swollen glands other zombies have, and her skin is only just starting to peel and discolor. Her hair is falling out, and not just on her head; her eyebrows are thinning, and there's no trace of her ever having had hair on her arms and legs. I assume that anywhere else that there is hair is having the same thing happen. It makes sense, though; once the necrosis of the skin begins, there is no need for hair anywhere. Soon the pain receptors will die, and if we do have to do that thing which I will _not_ mention here, at least she won't feel it.

There's no way this can get better anytime soon.

Donatello


	5. A Truce Unspoken

The T-Phone beeped to indicate its battery was dying, Donatello quickly saved his journal entries to his flash drive and tucked both back into his belt. Everyone was sleeping; it was his night for guard duty, and he straightened out his shoulders with a yawn, firmly grasping his bō and looking back at April. If he didn't know any better, she would have looked as if she'd been sleeping peacefully (save for, of course, the discoloration and bruising of her skin, and the hollow where her normally rounded cheeks should have been. She wasn't dead, not yet, and he loathed the fact that he was unable to cure her then and there.

Whoever said that love and laughter cured all was a lying bastard.

Something fell and crashed in an alleyway, and the perpetrator was revealed instantly: a little grey kitten with huge blue-ish eyes. Blind, most likely. The purple-masked turtle sat on his knees, clicking his tongue and beckoning the cat over. "Here, kitty kitty..." Its ears perked up, twitching its whiskers and cocking its head. It approached him tentatively, sticking its pink tongue out to taste the air, and Donatello reached out to pet its head. Initially, the cat froze, but his hand was gentle and the little feline slowly grew used to his touch. It purred, leaning into his hand as if asking for more, and he gently scratched behind its pointed ear. "It's okay, little guy." He looked around; surely no one would mind having a cat around. Mikey had tried to adopt a stray they'd seen the other day, but it hissed and scratched his face. Splinter didn't seem to have any aversion to the cat (likely the fact that he'd started out human), so why not this one?

Donatello picked the cat up, cradling it in one arm as he held his staff in the other, and carried it over to his sleeping family, laying it down next to April. Its back arched and its fur stuck out on end; it hissed before he quickly took it back. He understood. Animals like this cat must have been sensitive to the infected.

Yes, the cat would be an excellent addition to the family. He sat down against a wall, letting the cat curl up beside him with a meow. Donatello nearly dozed off, until the cat started hissing again. He lept to his feet, bō at the ready just as the cat darted behind him and he was faced with a walker coming down the alley. Simple, for now. Walkers often came in groups, and once he'd killed this one, there would be more. They were easy to take down, and he wasn't about to worry about getting bit - it wouldn't affect him.

The walker was slow, no match for him, and he sent its rotting head flying off its neck like a baseball, and it slammed into a nearby building. This definitely caught the attention of other walkers, or... something else? Donatello didn't think walkers could fly, never mind backwards, but one that was advancing seemed to have been pulled back into the darkness and thrown against a wall several meters away. More walkers came at him, some meeting a fate of getting brutally slammed against a wall and some meeting the blade at the end of his staff. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between himself and whatever was taking out the other undead: the zombies were dangerous, and even if the one on the other side revealed themself to be an enemy, right now there was the more pressing matter of the living dead. A temporary truce, of sorts; they had a common enemy and that was what was important right now.

Of course, until the crowd of zombies had been dealt with. Donatello stared into the darkness, and felt that something was staring back at him. There was no denying that when someone pulled a grin, the sound of the mouth parting accompanied it, and this was what he heard. The thing in the darkness seemed to turn, and when it did, a pair of eyes at a height that at least two of him could reach glinted, a reflection from a window nearby before disappearing.

It seemed the both of them had just formed a temporary truce, and the turtle had a pretty good idea of who he'd just 'allied' with.


	6. Rising Alliances

He paced about the alleyway, the little kitten at his side, purring all the while and rubbing against his leg. The night was almost over, and Donatello was ever thankful for that. He was tired, and the nagging reminder that he and one of their enemies had just become temporarily friendly ate away at his brain like the virus. Sure, this meant a cease-fire, but what of the inevitable betrayal? You just couldn't trust someone like that. You can never trust henchmen, regardless of whether or not you're a mutant turtle. He reminded himself that the family would eventually need some form of help, and whether or not it came in the form of less-than-admirable folk was beyond anyone's control now.

What he wouldn't give to have Leatherhead back right now. At least they knew he was on their side, even if he did have a tendency to grab Donnie's face and swing him around like a doll at the mention of the Kraang.

Something grabbed at his ankle. The cat hissed. Donnie whirled around, his immediate thoughts being that it was a zombie, but the hand belonged to April. He knelt down, petting the cat to get it to calm down with one hand and holding April's with the other. "G'morning, April," he said, though he knew this was anything but a good morning for her. "How're you holding up?" A groan, a mumble. Her eyes were glazed over. He felt the skin beneath her jaw, felt that the glands there were swollen and red. He knew she wasn't going to make it much longer. Her pulse was faint, her breathing slow. "I'm just going to do a small check-up, if anything hurts, tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

April gave him a small nod - she understood him, a good sign. Through her shirt, he gently poked and prodded her abdomen, keeping an eye on her facial expression so he could see whether or not she was feeling pain, on the chance that she was unable to communicate it to him. From the times they'd hugged in the past he knew she was a bit squishy, but now it was completely different, and definitely not a result of her ninja training. Her low moan of pain confirmed it; her abdomen had distended and the organs inside were bound to begin decaying, to say nothing of her other organs. Once the virus hit the medulla oblongata, the part of the brain that controlled the heart and lungs, she would be dead and there would be no hope. It could be days, it could be weeks, it could be hours or seconds... It just wasn't now, and that was what kept the turtle on track.

The virus was acting quickly, though. A glance back up to her face confirmed to Donatello that her lymph glands were dying, and purple and black were beginning to show beneath the red. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and looked to his brothers and sensei. No one in the family had been taking well to April's imminent demise. Naturally, of course. April was like their sister. The second-youngest turtle sighed and sat with his shell against the wall, bringing his knees up to his plastron and wrapping his hands around them. The blind cat rubbed against his legs, purring and stretching, kneading its claws against the ground. "How're you doing, little guy?" Donnie whispered, stroking its back. "Huh, bud? You doin' okay?" He yawned, rubbing his eyes. The sky was a blood red, signaling sunrise, and the next thing Donatello knew, he found himself drifting off...

* * *

"And you're absolutely sure they're still here," came a low, gravelly voice. "You're leaving something out. What aren't you telling us?"

"I told you exactly what I told Stockman." Dogpound couldn't help but flinch internally at this one's voice, though they'd been speaking a while. Oh, his aching oversensitive ears... Deep and shrill tones were such that never should have been mixed. "The turtles are still around, and the purple one was guarding. I didn't tell you he was the only one _awake_, but that was probably a _given_."

Dogpound's lip curled and a short growl escaped the confines of his clenched teeth. "What about the zombies, then?"

A pause. "I might've had to fight some on the way there and back. There was a group in the alley, too."

"The same alley you found the turtles in?"

"Yes."

"And what happened then? The wall isn't going to help you, my eyes are over _here_."

His interrogatee took the cue to practically lock eyes with him, black on yellow, unnerving for the both of them. "He was fighting them when I got there. I wasn't about to let him take all the credit."

"You _helped_ him?" Dogpound barked.

"You're saying I should be letting this zombie problem go unchecked? You might not give a damn about New York, but Earth to Fido, it's as much of a home to _me_ as it is to _them_ and if _you_ think I'm going to let these things run loose then you've got another thing coming!" He narrowed his eyes, sharp teeth bared. "Look, I hate the turtles as much as you do. Probably even more, I don't know how far back your relationship with them goes."

The dog mutant let out a long breath through his nose, ruffling his whiskers as he did so. "But you'd be willing to fight with them, _and_ with us?"

"Until this zombie problem's taken care of. Think about it, have you ever _seen_ any zombie movies?"

"You're crazy."

"I'm sure I am. But I'm right, too. Name one movie where the guy survived on his own against zombies."

"'I Am Legend'," he said plainly.

"There was _nothing_ about that movie that wasn't awful."

Fishface, who had been lurking, watching the conversation, spoke up finally. "He has a point, Bradford. If the _turtles_ were driven out of their home, it has to be bad. The three of us, Stockman, the turtles... It could work." He chuckled. "It could work."


	7. Of Mikeys and Men

Michelangelo was the first to awaken once Donatello had fallen asleep. He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn so as to not wake his family, and the first thing that caught his sleepy eye was the kitten in his brother's lap. "Hnn...? When'd we get a cat..." he mumbled, carefully stepping over a snoring Raphael who had slipped into a splayed position as he'd slept. "Donnie," he whispered. "Pssst. Hey, Donnie." Donatello was fast asleep, however, but April seemed responsive; opening her eyes a tad and slowly, slightly, leaning her head in the youngest turtle's direction.

It was all Mikey could do to not tear up or gag at the sight.

But for the pain it caused deep in his chest, Michelangelo knew what he had to do. For his family's safety. He understood now, the reality of the world they lived in, that this needed to be done to ensure it didn't happen to his other loved ones. He knew that the world was harsh, especially so these days. Certain measures needed to be taken.

The youngest turtle understood now, that he had to take the initiative. He had to grow up. And growing up meant doing things he, under any other circumstances, would never have thought of doing. And it seemed, when he took his sister figure's now fragile and decaying body in his arms, that even in her current state of mental health, April agreed with him.

Michelangelo was silent as he slipped out of the alley, as he began walking, blending in as best he could with the shadows. April was a constant in his peripheral vision, and he sighed. "Hey, April." His voice was a whisper. "You can hear me, right? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, April... Sorry that this happened and that you had to have it happen to you." The orange-masked ninja tried not to get lost in his words as he walked, farther and farther away from his brothers and father. "I wish we had time to find a cure. This isn't anything like that wasp, we can't fix it... Not yet." April seemed to be slipping in his arms, and he hefted her up a bit. "We'll find a way, April. At least, Donnie will. You know he's a genius, I mean, you were helping him! You guys were doing great. But Sensei once told me, that sometimes you don't have enough time. Sometimes you'll work so hard to get somewhere, or to get something done, or you'll just work so hard period, and then in a split second everything you had is gone." Mikey swallowed, blinking several times. "That's just how it is, I guess. The six of us all worked so hard to keep you safe and get you and your dad back together... That's all gone now."

He shook his head, turning a corner and narrowly avoiding two walkers catching his scent, though it seemed that with April in his arms, her scent overrode his. He could certainly tell, not that he would mention it. "Heh... Well, they're avoiding us. Probably 'cause I've got you. And they don't wanna mess with the King of the Kusarigama!" Michelangelo laughed, the first time he'd done so in days. "When we find a cure, don't you worry, we'll find you. Somehow we'll find a way for it to fix people who are totally gone. Because... they're not. They're not totally gone, you know? Splinter says that our loved ones never leave us, and they're always there in spirit. Or something like that. Either in spirit, or they're in our hearts or minds... I like the spirit part better, though. It feels a bit better knowing I haven't got loved ones in my organs." Another chuckle. The ghost of a smile crossed April's lips. "See? There you go. You're gonna be alright, April, even if you totally turn. Because we'll fix it." Another corner. He wanted to get her somewhere where she couldn't hurt anybody.

In his mind he felt guilty. In his mind, he knew he was lying. To April, to himself. But even though she would forget him once she turned, forget him and everyone and everything he was telling her, he was determined to make her feel comfortable. He forced the smile that used to come so naturally and pressed onward.

"And when everything's all better and New York is as normal as it can get again, we'll have the Lair back. We'll find your dad and we'll all live happily ever after." What an odd fairy tale that would make. Once upon a time, there lived four turtle brothers and their father, who was a rat. They were all trained and skilled ninjas, but didn't leave home for fifteen years. On their fifteenth birthday, they left home and rescued the fair maiden April O'Neil from the clutches of the evil Kraang, and swore to save her father, who had been lost to the menace. The turtle brothers and their new friend April had many adventures, but one day, a horrible plague struck their home, forcing them out of their then shared residence and out into the world, to face horrific, decaying, zombies. As they prepared to face the hordes, April had been struck down by the plague. Despite their efforts to help her, she slowly succumbed to the disease, leaving the youngest brother, Michelangelo, to become the day's hero and take her away to a place where she would be safe from herself. Throughout the course of the story, the smartest of the four brothers, Donatello, developed a cure that would save their friend, and little by little they were able to save those who had been infected.

And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

Michelangelo knew that if she were alert, that if her brain wasn't dying by the minute, April wouldn't believe any of this. She knew better. Hell, if even he knew better, why should she not?

They'd been gone for at least an hour. Mikey knew his family would be looking for him, looking for them, but he didn't care. They had reached a small clinic, abandoned by its occupants but surprisingly not ransacked by survivors quite yet. He knew the bigger thing to do would be to have April stay in there, and he would search the shelves for anything that would be needed.

When he thought about it again, the only good part of that plan was the shelf-searching. Most of the apartments on this street had been long since left, the windows thankfully intact but the lights all out. If he were to... no, no. Barricading the apartment building would take too long, and who knew if there were occupants, survivors of the plague? Locking April in the clinic seemed the better idea of the two, but he wouldn't loose a zombie on unsuspecting raiders. Michelangelo sighed again, a long inhale through his mouth, and exhale through his nose. He'd seen a similar dilemma in a movie once, where had the main character taken his friend... Somewhere contained. Somewhere contained, somewhere contained...

* * *

He carefully sat April down on the seat's lid. "We'll come back for you, April. We'll come back for you soon." He locked the stall door, hearing her groan and gurgle in response. With all the strength he could muster, the turtle took another door off its hinges, slipping through the main door before using it to barricade the doorknob from the inside as best he could, knowing it would slip the minute he took his hand out from the gap, but he had a backup. The subway bathroom's door locked from the outside.

As he made his way back to the clinic, he was given time to reflect on the measures he'd just taken. As he called out to see if anyone was hiding, he bit the inside of his cheek. As he scooped acetaminophen, bandages, and peroxide into the bag he'd brought from the Lair, he cast his eyes down to the floor.

"I gotta stop lying to myself," he murmured. "But I guess... I guess it feels nice to believe we can help her. Must be how Donnie felt..."


	8. Retreat, RETREAT!

The door slammed open behind Michelangelo as he finished digging through shelves some time later, having added gauze and duct tape to his bag and managing to shove in some water bottles where they would fit. He spun around, slinging the bag over his shoulder, expecting walkers but instead he was faced by none other than Leonardo.

"What was that, Michelangelo?" The eldest turtle closed the door behind him. "You don't go out like that and not tell anyone! You could have gotten hurt, you could have been bitten! We don't know what else is out there!" Despite his obvious frustration, there was concern lacing his words. "And where's April? She could have turned any minute last night, she could have bitten you and then where would you be?"

"Dude, calm down! I brought April to the substation bathroom. She can't hurt anyone there, and she'll be safe! I locked the door behind me, she's not gonna be biting anyone."

Leonardo blinked, raising a finger as his jaw dropped a bit. "You... you brought her back underground?"

Mikey couldn't comprehend the fear and concern in his brother's eyes. "Yeah? What's so wrong about that? Would you rather we just... tow her around or something? Do you think any of us need to look at her like that and be constantly reminded how we couldn't save her? Do we all have to risk getting bit just because we figured it would be a good idea to keep her with us?" His voice was rising. "It killed me to do it, Leo! She's as much of a sister to me as she is to you and Raph! I'm doing what's best for our family. Remember that day you told me to grow up? I'm finally _doing_ it."

"You could've _told_ us, Mikey." Leo crossed his arms, though traces of a gentle look still remained in his eyes. "Did she... you know. Did she _turn_ while you were bringing her out?"

"I dunno, bro. She was totally out of it when I brought her into the bathroom, but when I was locking her in she was gurgling and growling and stuff." He cocked his head, looked right past his brother, and straight through the glass doors. "Hey, Leo? You might wanna turn around..."

"...Yeah, that's what I was coming to warn you about..."

A group of zombies, horrendously disfigured to a degree no walker had been seen at, had congregated outside the door. The most notable, a massive one with one tiny dangling arm and another veiny, calloused arm, was banging on the door with its engorged arm as if trying to break through it. It was accompanied by one whose jaw appeared lengthened and distended, hanging agape and leaking discolored saliva. The third resembled the second, though it appeared more alert, its hot breath fogging up the glass.

Michelangelo stumbled back as the first zombie cracked the glass. "What the heck are those things?!"

It was now that Leonardo seemed panicked. "I'll tell you while we're running. You got everything you came here for?" Mikey nodded. "Good. **_RUN_**!"

They bolted towards a door behind the desk, and Leonardo fumbled with the knob as Michelangelo hurriedly picked up a water bottle that had fallen from his bag, flinching as he heard the glass crack once more. "Leo, c'mon! They're gonna get through!"

"I'm working on it!" With a click, the door opened, and it was a mad dash for the two to get through, and lock it behind them as the lead zombie finally broke a hole through the glass. They found themselves outside again, and they took off running.

Between breaths, Leonardo began to explain the massive undead beings to his younger brother. "Those guys popped up after you left," he started. "The four of us managed to drive 'em out, but they're... I don't even know! The big one's incredibly strong, and he and the other two... Oh, Mikey... I dunno how to say it, but you're not going to like this..."

"What happened...?"

* * *

The two brothers ran for what seemed like forever, skidding around corners and dodging walkers. It was after a while that they stopped at a familiar place, making Michelangelo's eyes widen. "...Leo, I dunno if you know, but this is Dexter Spackman's lab. What're we doing here?"

Leonardo looked around, before sighing and placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Mikey, the alleys aren't safe anymore. After those zombies attacked and before I came out here looking for you, well... It turns out we're not the only survivors. We met Fishface again, and he offered a temporary truce. Said Dogpound was too busy trying to choke down his pride, otherwise he'd have been there too. It was... quite the discussion. But it was for the best. This is our base, for now."

"Okay, that I can handle, but what happened that I'm not gonna like, Leo?"

The oldest turtle closed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking. "When they attacked us, we..." Michelangelo noticed his brother was looking away, his eyes shiny and his nostrils flared slightly. This was definitely a sight he didn't see often, and so he braced himself for it. "We lost Splinter, Mikey. Raph's badly injured, he got too close to the big one and i-it threw him into the wall."

Michelangelo was silent.

He was silent for what felt like forever.

He uttered one small word before collapsing into his brother's chest, wrapping his arms around Leo's neck for leverage. After April, this was too much.

"...No."


	9. What Did I Say About Pressing The Thing?

With his arm wrapped around his distraught brother's shoulder, the equally and freshly upset Leonardo led Michelangelo into Baxter Stockman's lab. Coming out of the hallway, the room they happened upon was surprisingly empty, save for the other two turtle brothers in a corner with medical supplies. Spike sat by Raphael's head, constantly by his friend even now. Mikey practically bolted towards Donatello and Raphael, engulfing the former in a hug. He bit his lip, his blue eyes wide and watery, but now wasn't the time for tears.

"Donnie... I'm sorry, Donnie, I just didn't want her to bite anyone or get herself hurt..." He could feel Donnie tense up, and he released his grip. "She's safe, bro. She's safe and we can find a cure and when we do we can help her!" Michelangelo sat down by his brothers, getting a better look at Raphael's injury. "And Splinter..." Just the thought made a lump in the youngest turtle's throat.

Leonardo knelt beside them, giving his little brother a pat on the shoulder. "He'll be alright. He was a great man and an excellent dad. He taught us everything we know about surviving because he knew we'd need it, because he wouldn't be around forever. And now... we have to use that training. Or it'll have been for nothing."

Raphael grit his teeth as Donatello tied off the thread in his stitches. "And we're all going to live through this. For Splinter."

"For Splinter," the other three agreed. When Raphael went to sit up, Donatello's hand was immediately on his plastron and pushing down. "Raph, don't. You'll pull a stitch." The red-banded turtle grumbled and begrudgingly lay back down, his eyes cast to the ceiling.

A soft meow came from the hallway nearby, and the cat who had been in the alleyway with them bounded towards Donatello, leaping and attempting to land on his lap. Its head hit his chest, but it landed on his leg, looked up at him, and purred. Donatello smiled. "Hey there, little guy. And how're you holding up?" It meowed.

Mikey reached over and gently stroked the kitten's head. "We should name him. But what..."

"First of all," Donatello started. "We don't know it's a he. It could be a she!"

"Well, I'm not gonna look! You're the older brother, you look."

"Oh, for shell's sake." Raphael leaned up with a grunt and took the cat, quickly whispering to Spike that no, this cat certainly wasn't replacing him, and that the cat would never have a place in his heart nearly as big as the one the tiny turtle occupied. The cat's fur stood on end, and Raphael immediately held it away as he checked whether it was a boy or a girl. "She's a girl," he said, handing the cat back to Donatello. She immediately calmed down.

"I think she's special," Donnie continued. "When I was on guard duty, she could tell when the walkers were coming. She wasn't all too keen about... about April, either."

Mikey perked up. "Let's name 'er Radar! Why? Because she's like a zombie radar! With her around, we won't have to worry about the zombies sneaking up on us!"

The other three exchanged looks. "You know," Leo said. "That's actually a really good name."

"I never thought I'd hear Mikey come up with a name that wasn't two words." Raphael admitted.

"Or something out of the blue from his being unable to think up a name with two words!"

The orange-masked turtle grinned a grin that spanned the entire bottom half of his face. "That's because Dr. Name-enstein's finally got his Master's degree in naming!"

This elicited a groan from his brothers. "Don't ruin it, Mikey." Donatello scratched Radar's chin, making her close her eyes and purr. "Radar it is, then. Let's hope she keeps living up to her name."

Raphael poked at his stitches. "So where's Blister Stinkbug? And everyone else? We're missing four jerks."

* * *

"So do I hold it like this?"

"No." Baxter's hand was shifted on the handle, his finger moved so it rested straight and parallel to the trigger. "Keep it like that unless you're actually trying to shoot something. If you accidentally hurt someone we're _both_ going to get the heat for it, and that Bradford guy seems like a real heavy hitter. Actually, just don't touch it if you can help i- _what did I say about keeping your finger parallel_?!"

"You know, Snake, you're actually somewhat tolerable." He adjusted his finger so it lay parallel again.

"Oh, _please_. You haven't been around me for more than a day, you have no idea... Don't hold it that close to yourself. If it recoils you're going to get a chest full of gun and, trust me, that hurts like hell."

"Pfft. I'll be fine. I work with machinery all the time. I've been electrocuted, hospitalized for broken limbs... Now how do you empty this thing?"

"I could tell you stories, Stockman. Just press that thing right there- **_NOT THAT THING_**!"

* * *

All four of the turtles' eyes widened at the sudden sounds of a gunshot, two terrified screams, something ricocheting and then an eardrum-piercing shriek. Radar's ears went up and her back arched, prompting Donnie to place her on Mikey's lap. "...I'm gonna go check that out."

"Are you sure, Donnie? I mean, someone was definitely hurt, but you could get hurt too! We don't need you injured."

"Leo. I've got this." He disappeared down the hallway and into another room, careful to knock and slowly open the door. "Is everyone okay in here...?"

His eyes strayed to the pistol on the floor, a terrified Baxter against the wall, and a very angry Snakeweed across the room from him, clutching his shoulder. "What the hell was that?! I told you not to press it! _What made you think you were supposed to press it_?!"

"Woah, woah!" Donatello raised his hands and stepped in. "Calm down. Both of you!"

"**DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO**-"

As if on cue, the door and Donatello were thrown into shadow by a massive canine silhouette. "What's going on in here?"


	10. It Goes A Bit Like This

The entire room was a jumble of voices, an unintelligible conglomerate of explanations and arguments and a "shut up" here and a "let him talk" there. Ridiculous gestures and stutters and twisted tongues stumbling over badly veiled threats of violence resulted in Donatello's hands pressed to the sides of his head as his voice reached foghorn-like levels in a call for silence.

"_EVERYONE, BE QUIET!_"

All eyes were on him.

"Someone tell me what happened. Preferably-" His calculating gaze turned to Snakeweed, who looked just about ready to strangle Baxter where he stood. "-without hurting anyone in the process."

* * *

Date: 30 August

Today was... eventful, to say the least.

It's been a long, long twelve hours. And they haven't been anything less than terrible. But lamenting won't bring April and Splinter back, so I suppose this entry will focus on a more recent event of the day.

I can't promise, though. My thoughts have been everywhere today.

Turns out Baxter Stockman can't be trusted to even touch any sort of firearms, lest he mess up big time and have an infuriated, homicidal mutant plant on his metaphorical tail. The look in his eyes was kinda priceless though. I wonder if that's what I looked like when Leatherhead would grab my face and shake me around. Though I felt bad for the guy, at least we know what he's definitely not going to be doing, and that's being anywhere in the field. That whole debacle was a full hour of arguing and screaming and shouting, but it's finally night and I've never been more awake, even though just about everyone else is asleep.

Raph's doing okay physically. It was just a few sprained joints that I was able to set right, and he'll be resting for a while if I have anything to say about it. Emotionally, though, I guess you could say we're all at different stages of a mess. I look to my right, Mikey's practically in the fetal position and snuggling with Radar.

As far as I can tell, Leo is the only one awake besides me. He's just... staring. Sitting on one side of the room we're sleeping in, staring at the wall opposite, and it's sad. I've never seen him like this. Earlier, he was able to take charge and propose that 'buddy system' of his (and what a wonderful idea it is, though I wouldn't agree with some of the pairs he's come up with), and now he's utterly despondent.

Despite my warnings and what I hope was his better judgement, Raph turned several inoperative M.O.U.S.E.R.S into his punching bags. Grief's a bitch and we know it all too well now.

I suppose I'm alright. Sometimes I can feel bile rising in my throat when I remember that fight in the alley, but I like to consider myself the most logical of all of us, and Sensei wouldn't want us grieving too long in a time of crisis.

Leo's buddy system, despite my doubts, may just work. The last time Raphael and Fishface worked together, they did fairly well, and I suppose working with Stockman won't be so bad. As for himself, Leo ended up paired with Dogpound, and likely because of the fact that they were the only ones left partnerless, Mikey and Snakeweed, the latter of whom really knows how to make his objections known. My ears are still ringing. _Ouch_. But I guess not everything can go well for everyone.

Earlier this evening I decided to take the initiative and take inventory of the lab - naturally everyone's had a lot on their minds, and when I asked Baxter if he knew what was where and how much of what was here, he seemed to have blanked out and completely forgotten, and I can totally understand. This is some freaky shiz and I'm wondering how any of us have managed to keep it together as well as we have.

I just passed out for half an hour, I'll update this tomorrow I'm so sleepy

Donatello

* * *

What time was it? 3? 4:00 in the morning? Raphael didn't know. He couldn't sleep, no matter how still he lay, no matter how much he tossed and turned and grumbled into the couch he'd collapsed onto.

"Hey, Spike?" he whispered. "You awake too, buddy?" A tiny beak nudged his finger, and Raphael smiled warmly at his non-mutated turtle friend. He gave Spike's head a soft pat. "It's gonna be okay, don't worry. I'm not gonna let the zombies getcha. Not ever."

Spike nibbled at Raph's finger affectionately, and in turn Raphael gently stroked his shell. "You'll stay here with Donnie and Stinkman while I'm gone, okay? It'll be safer for you." He yawned, tickling under Spike's chin.

"Man, I dunno if my eyes are tired or if _I'm_ tired... This zombie thing is really freakin' me out, though, Spike. You feel me? I mean, first April, then Splinter..." His voice hitched, prompting Spike to plod up his friend's plastron and bump his cheek, as if to affirm that despite their losses, everything would be alright. Or at least, in Spike's mind, it would be. "Thanks," he murmured, a smile returning to his face. "You've always got such a positive view 'a things, Spike. But sometimes it just can't be that way. Honestly dude, I wanna believe we'll all make it out. But," then came another yawn, "it won't happen like that. You know how it is."

Raphael yawned yet again, stretched his arms. Footsteps in the hallway alerted him, and he sat bolt upright on the couch, cradling Spike to his chest. "Who's there?!" He placed Spike on the arm of the couch, reaching for his sai - a walker could have gotten in, and he couldn't take any chances.

* * *

_**A/N:** I'm sorry about the wait, everyone! This chapter was hell to write for several reasons, one of which being that inferiority complex writers tend to get regarding other writers writing similar things. Zombies is a popular trope around this time of year, obviously. I've got it pretty bad, but I also got this chapter done! I'd pat myself on the back if it wasn't 11 PM on a school night. Did I mention how fun it is to write for Raph and Spike? And Donatello's journal entries are making a comeback - you'll see them more in later chapters, I promise. _

_Next chapter, if all goes according to plan, will be some Leonardo and Donatello, and then the obligatory villain chapter - how are our resident rogues taking these Z-word shenanigans and the buddy system?_

_I do have many more chapters planned after this: more than thirty, if it goes well enough._

_Questions? Comments? Will they find a cure for the zombie plague? Will April ever return? Will we find out what is behind the End Of The World (As We Know It)?_

_I know, but you folks don't - and I love incorporating fanon/can be swayed by opinions! That's how this chapter got written, to be perfectly honest. So leave your thoughts in the review section down there!_

_- Acolyte of the Bacon God_


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